


Mind My Wicked Words

by Feeeshy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Heavy Petting, Implied Sexual Content, Light Dom/sub, One Shot Collection, Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers Spoilers, Snippets, Sub Emet-Selch, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Vaginal Sex, magically induced sensory impairment
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-08
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23545315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feeeshy/pseuds/Feeeshy
Summary: A collection of unrelated short, smutty one-shots.
Relationships: Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch & Warrior of Light, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light
Comments: 5
Kudos: 118





	1. Nerves

He shouldn’t be this nervous.

“I’m glad that you decided to join me tonight, Emet-Selch.”

He shouldn’t be this nervous, but his mouth goes dry when her hands work his trousers loose. She pushes him onto the bed, and when she straddles him, his heart fights against his ribs.

No doubt the Warrior is expecting a lot of him. As an immortal being, as a founding father of a nation with a war of succession under his belt, she must think his list of bedroom conquests unrivaled. And it was. An eternal life is a long thing indeed if there is no one to warm your bed at night.

A tryst here, a tumble there, when the mood struck him he was not picky about who he laid with. In the end, it was a need he wanted met, satisfactory but not spectacular, all blurring together into a haze of semi-pleasant memories. 

Except for _her._ She was different. He cared about what she thought of this night.

_She doesn't remember,_ he tries to remind himself as her lips grace his. She doesn’t remember the way her body would arch under him, or how her touch alone was enough to undo him. She doesn’t remember how overjoyed she was when he had finally told her of his promotion to the position of Emet-Selch, how she threw herself at him and stole their first kiss. How that night they learned of each other’s most intimate secrets. 

So lost in his worries, his kiss becomes clumsy, all teeth and no finesse. 

His cheeks burn as she pulls back to look at him, averting his gaze to anywhere but hers.

"Are you...nervous?" She asks slowly, incredulously. An impish grin grows on her pretty face.

He huffs, but he knows it only adds to her mirth. Her fingers ghost along his bared chest, chasing the flush as it creeps down his neck.

“A virgin Ascian, who would have thought,” she teases and he shoots her a fierce glare that’s completely undermined by his blush. “What is on your mind, Emet-Selch?”

Her eyes catch the moonlight, and his heart skips.

He cannot begin to describe how much he has missed her.


	2. Heat

She rides him slowly, a languid pace that lets him admire the wet glistening at their joining. With half-lidded eyes, he watches how his lust-slicked cock catches the dim, red light of the room with every roll of her hips before disappearing again into her welcoming folds. The heady scent of burning incense and herbs he doesn’t recognize thickens the air, twisting and turning around them, like snakes of smoke and hushed whispers weaving through their coupling.

Earlier, the vaunted hero had claimed to be a master of alchemy and botany, of medicines and herbs, for both healing the body and relaxing the mind. She had offered him a private demonstration, to help ease the slope of his shoulders, if only for a little while. To show the immortal being something he had never experienced before.

A bold claim. He had agreed without hesitation.

Sultry heat dampens his hair to his forehead. Droplets of sweat shimmer across his body, sliding into all the dips and curves of his stomach when hazy pleasure rolls through him. Their skin sticks together with every syrup-slow drop of her hips down his length.

She leans forward, a searing meeting of skin as her soft breasts press down onto his chest.

_ “Emet-Selch,”  _ she sighs against his waiting lips, honeyed voice like poisoned nectar dripping down his throat, and he craves  _ more. _

His fingernails dig crescent moons into the plump flesh of her thighs. He tries to will his hips to buck, to set a brutal pace between them, fucking into her with the intent to overwhelm and claim. Insead, her cloying sorcery has him pinned to the bed under the weight of sweltering intoxication, his own movements sluggish despite his urging.

_ “Tsk, tsk,” _ she berates kindly.  _ “So impatient.”  _ Her words are another part of her spell. A promise that she will make this worth his time.


	3. Gift

Her fingertips kiss the taut muscles just above his smallclothes, leaving feather light paths as they trace the dips and curves of his hips. He waits with held breath above her, his arms straining to hold himself up as the anticipation builds. 

"What would you like me to do?" Her voice is sugar sweet. She already knows what he wants, and she hears a mumbled complaint when his hesitation to answer stills her hands. 

"Lower," he croaks, voice dry.

"Ah, ah. You will have to ask nicer than that." 

He huffs, his fingers curling into the bed sheets on either side of her.

"Touch me, please."

A halfhearted effort, but she's too eager herself to ask more from him right now. Wordlessly, she slides a hand down his front, her palm dragging over the prominent bulge in his smallclothes. He whimpers above her as she kneads him through the thin fabric, urging her hand to move rougher. He strains and pulses against her grasp, so ready to take her.

"Oh, _Hades."_

His length jumps in her hand as she purrs his name, his moans low and hungry as his hips snap against her palm.

It was a gift he had given her, his name. A request for her to use it, and not his title, while in the throes of passion. But it was a gift with a stipulation: come the morning’s light, he will be Emet-Selch once again.

"Oh, Hades, is this all for me?" She roughly squeezes him, savoring the hefty weight in her hand. A growl with hints of the inhuman mixed in is her reward.

"Yes."

This gift of his name she would take greedily, and cherish it. And the next night that found her lonely and wanting, she would call for him, for Hades. Just as he had bade her to do when he had first bestowed to her this gift. And he would appear, without question, just as he had done this night.


End file.
